The Hobbit: Retold
by Yfipps Hoarder of Shinies
Summary: Bilbo goes on an entirely new adventure filled with gay elves, high mules of the netherlands, and starnosed moles!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters (although I might have tweeked a few names….)

So... First attempts were frivolous little rants; third to four-hundred-thirty-first try is what you see before you. I lost count somewhere in there. Enjoy.

Bilbo sat at his little table, engrossed in "Martha Stuart Living" whilst he munched on his fifth seed-cake. He wearily clicked off the television and got to his furry little feet. A bit of tobacco in hand, he wandered outside in his bunny slippers. The Baggins, a bit of a recluse, sat in solemn thought, wondering what tomorrow's dinner might hold, and whether he should try out the Jenny Craig Diet, or the South Beach. Of course, he rejected both, telling himself that he was in perfect shape, when a tall old guy walked up to him, fluffy eyebrows a-twitter. Bilbo was entranced by the liveliness of the things, when he remembered his long-practiced manners.

"No solicitors, telemarketers, loiterers, salespersons, uninvited visitors, unexpected parties, VIPs, MVPs, CEOs, or ABCs." That said, he blew a smoke ring, although it looked much like a smoke-egg-thing. The senior citizen's eyebrows shot up on his forehead, nearly mingling with his tufts of grey hair.

"To think I should be ' No solicitors, telemarketers, loiters, salespersons, uninvited visitors, unexpected parties, VIPs, MVPs, CEOs, or ABCs'ed by a descendent of the old Took himself!" The fellow chuckled, brow bobbing along with his chortle.

Bilbo screwed up his eyes in concentration, but his little hobbit head was a bit too filled with important knowledge such as how to make doilies and good center pieces. The visitor sighed and smacked the short, fuzzy man with big, splintery stick. Bilbo yelped, then gasped.

"I remember now! You're the Great Gandolfski! I used to help backstage for those cheap little tricks at the shows, and when I accidentally threw your show rabbit into a stew, you gave me a couple of thumps with that!" He hopped to his feet. "Good to see you, old pal!" The wizard grumbled, remembering the incident. He still missed Mr. Flopsy Cuddly Puffums.

"Well, all in the past, my good lad. Now, I'm going to say a few ambiguous things, and you'll scratch your head for a while, then I'll be off." Gandolfski mumbled a bit, and the hobbit stared blankly into space for a moment. After a while of frozen stupidity on Bilbo's face, Gandolfski shrugged and hobbled away. At last, the trance was broken, and Mr. Baggins wiped a bit of drool off of his face. Setting his pipe down, he went back inside to study his maps and eat a few things. All the talk of rabbits had made him quite ravenous.

Yes, quite a lot of focus on bushy eyebrows. Short little page, but there are chapters to come.


	2. An Unexpected Pool Party

A miracle has taken place before your eyes. I have decided to carry on with a story. I have my reasons (one being that it doesn't completely suck). I own none of the characters etcetera etcetera, and whatever else good ol' J.R.'s descendants might whine about. Time to get on with the writing and stuff.

Bilbo sat lazily in his chair (it was rare he sat in any other fashion), and contemplated his demise. Surely it would be in quite a few decades, but he loved being prepared. He would die quietly in his bed, roses (thornless, of course) in hand and his "I Love Orlando Bloom" pillow at head. He sniffled a bit, thinking that he might be missed, or that maybe one of his relatives might steal his precious home. He sat up in his chair, a lovely idea crossing his mind, when a rap at the door echoed through his halls. He eased to his feet and wobbled to the door, humming a bright little song to himself as he went along. He opened it, a hobbitish grin on his pudgy face. The grin sagged into a confused frown as he saw the guest was not at all Mr. Ganolfski, but instead, two round little fellows, beards near as long as the wizard's.

"Lollin and Stalin at your service," said the one with a red cape. Slightly disturbed by the second name, although he knew not why, Bilbo offered to take the cloak, but was refused. The dwarves kept them tightly wrapped about their bodies. Bilbo sat them down with a few party cakes (compliments of the Food Channel) and was about to get one for himself when the door was knocked on again. He rushed to it and raised an eyebrow as the next pair of dwarves trotted in, huffing and puffing. The shorter bowed and introduced them as Bili and Wili. They hung on to their cloaks as well, and hurried to the rest of the guests. In the next half-hour or so, nine more dwarves came to his doorstep, and nine more entered his little hole. Their names were as such: Bori, Sori, Kori, Doin, Floin, Snifor, Whiffor, Thorin and Mary-Lou. Mary-Lou was a male, just for common knowledge and those that don't catch on too quickly. Gandalfski was soon there, and all were merry-making. Each was ranting and laughing and generally being far more boisterous than any party Bilbo had ever seen, when Bili turned about and looked at Bilbo, a good nudge at his ribs.

"Well, chap, where's the pool?" The rest seconded little Bili's query and looked expectantly at the poor hobbit. Bilbo flushed, angered and startled. Only he and a few others knew of his Olympic-sized pool complete with water slide.

"I uh, um…" He could not refuse a request, but surprised himself by leading the fourteen to his pool. They all jumped in, splashing and diving and using his slide. This was the reason for keeping cloaks, you see, because it's impolite to dine in one's trunks. Bilbo shrugged and ran to his dressing room, returning quickly to the lot. The air grew still with silence as they all stared at Bilbo. He looked around wildly.

"What?" The hobbit sniffled, looking down at his pink and flower-print one-piece swimsuit. He had always considered Bikinis a bit too showing. "I think it's pretty."

Despite the chuckles of others, he fitted on a swim cap and waded into the water. The dwarves and wizard began to play about again, and Bilbo joined in. At last, they got out, thick skin wrinkled. They sat about in a circle, discussing marvelous things that made the hobbit's stomach twirl. He vomited as they suggested using him as a burglar, but he was soon condoled by Gandalfski. They would set off in the morning. But one thing still pressed Bilbo. At last, he found himself curious enough to ask.

"How did you know I had a pool?" Sori answered him.

"Why, Pool Party was scribbled on your door. How couldn't you have?" Bilbo looked abashed and got up, heading for bed.

"Good night." He was then off to brush his teeth and wiggle into Barbie pajamas.

Yes, the ending sucked. It's not likeI askedyou to read it. Oh well.Time for the interesting things to start happening… (cackles) C'mon, fishy. Take the bate.


	3. The Fat Mule

Disclaimer: How could I possibly own the Hobbit if I'm not Tolkien? I'm not! Or am I…? The mind boggles.

Anyway, it has taken me a bajillion trillion years to finally get this started. Okay, maybe that's an itsy bitsy exaggeration, but, close enough.

The hobbit awoke to find a tape recorder plastered to his forehead. He shrugged drowsily and got out of bed and dressed. He ripped away the recorder, as it interfered with his "Save the Pink Ponies" cap. His curiosity was stirred, and he pressed the play button.

"Hello, Mr. Baggins. This is Gandolfski. You are to embark on a great and terrible mission. Meet us at the Fat Mule at ten o' clock sharp. This tape will now self-destruct."

Bilbo did not understand the big words at the end, so he stood with the box out held, blinking stupidly. The recorder promptly exploded in his face.

"Ouch," squeaked Bilbo. He trotted out the door in an animal-too-fat-for-it's-own-good fashion, and headed for the Fat Mule.

* * *

The majority of the dwarves were either unconsciously drunk or asleep at the time Bilbo arrived. Gandolfski glared down at him from under unusually bushy eyebrows. Bilbo cowered.

"You're eyebrows are very, uh, fluffy, Mister Gandolfski," said Bilbo, shrinking away with every word. For a moment, Gandolfski beamed, looking very vain.

"Why, thank you…. That's not the point! You're late, and we have business to do. Rouse the others. We're off." Bilbo nodded and received an electric cattle prod from Gandolfski, and in turn, all of the dwarves received a sharp shock to their lardy buttocks.

They woke with yelps, and with help from a few more prods, were out the door.

* * *

For a long while they plodded over hills. They were ponyless, and Bilbo's feet were beginning to tire.

"Gandolfski, may we rest?" The hobbit paused for a moment, and the grey wizard glared down at him.

"Your lazyass needs exercise. Move." They continued until darkness had fallen upon the land, and at this point, they stopped under a tree. Fili and Kili played a little tune, and although famished, Bilbo laid back into the harsh, spiky, painful grasses of the hills, relaxed.

"What a lovely night," he said, gazing up into the stars. Immediately, it began to pour rain, and everyone was drenched. A rock fell on Bilbo's head. He shuddered and cuddled into a blanket. The blanket spontaneously combusted, as did a bird sitting over his head. Again a rock fell on Bilbo's head, near knocking him senseless. Singed and aching, he sniffled and proceeded to stoke the fire, which, miraculously, was still ablaze. The fire died, and a third rock fell to Bilbo's head, stunning him. The dwarves were miserable, and decided to play a little prank on the inert Bilbo. Floin poked the hobbit awake.

"There's a fire over yonder, and you should go investigate. Bring back something."

Bilbo gazed dazedly about, then rose and trudged away. He at last reached the distant light. Three forms were sitting around the fire, and an animal was on the spit. A lump writhed under the shadow of an oak. He heard deep, rumbling voices.

"This sucks. Fifi was the last piece of meat we had. Maybe we can go into a town and steal something."

Another figure sobbed heavily.

"Bastard," it choked.

"You ate her too!"

"The collar would have made fine stew!"

"That was pleather, and you know it!"

"I don't mind plastic!"

Yet another voice entered the conversation.

"Now now. We don't need arguments. We've enough trouble selling number fifty-two. It's a hideous little hovel."

"True, but he still ate my dog!"

"You did too!"

"Easy, now. What do you suggest?"

"It needs to be more advertised. And some paint work."

"You ate my dog!"

"Shut up!"

"A picket fence would do nicely."

"Where's the paperwork?"

Bilbo inched forward, and found that around the fire were three trolls, all dressed in business suits. Three briefcases lay in the dust under a tree next to a large bag. Wine was at the troll's hands. Bilbo's eyes widened and he crept forward, ready to steal something. An enormous hand picked him up by his shirt collar, choking him.

"What's this?" Troll 1 said.

"Dunno," said Troll 2.

"Put it on the fire," said Troll 3.

"Meep!" said Bilbo. Meanwhile the dwarves were watching, stifling laughs. Realtor trolls were the worst. But, knowing the immense lawsuit that would probably ensue if they didn't save Bilbo's skin, they attempted to rescue him.

Every dwarf was caught. Bilbo wrung his hands nervously.

"I… I have a suggestion." The trolls looked down at him.

"A wreath on the d-door?" He said softly. Troll 1 and 3 gasped.

"Of course!" Troll 2 looked uneasy.

"Well…"

"You know it would be great!"

"It's just a bit tacky…"

"You ate my dog!"

"Wreaths are gorgeous!"

"But… on that house?"

"You ate my dog!"

Troll 3 smacked Troll 1. What they didn't notice was Bilbo fumbling in his pocket. Quietly, he blew a small horn. A thunder sounded in the distance, and dust rose on the horizon. A herd of moose came to the call, and the trolls shrank away, because, as everyone knows, realtor trolls hate moose. The herd arrived, and all the trolls turned to dust, which the moose ate and died. The sun was rising, and the dwarves magically burst from their bonds and cheered Bilbo. They had food. Curious, Bilbo crept towards the lump under the oak. When he finally saw it, he gasped. It was a giant star-nosed mole.

"Hello," it squeaked. "I'm Murray. I'm very good at killing health department workers and cooking delicious egg breakfasts." The two were immediately in love. Bilbo climbed onto its back, accompanied by all the dwarves, and rode into the… sunset?

* * *

Ok. Random. I know. But I'm not feeling terribly creative. Not _really._


End file.
